


Time

by remanth



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Date, First Kiss, Fluff, Golly, Lestrolly, Mollstrade, Molstrade, Time - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 17:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1826230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg plucks up his courage to ask Molly out on the first date he'd been on since he'd divorced his wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time

“Why do I always think something might change?” Molly asked herself wryly as she watched Sherlock stride purposefully away. He already had his phone out and was typing away on it quickly. Probably rattling off the results of his latest experiment and the deductions about who the killer was. An offer of coffee (again) had yielded the answer ‘No thank you, I don’t have time to drink anything right now’ as Sherlock swung his Belstaff around his shoulders.

Shrugging and sighing, Molly cleaned up the results of Sherlock’s experiment. Mostly just throwing away a few used slides and packing Mr. Ethan Taylor back into his body bag. This time, Sherlock had only needed blood so things were fairly easy to clean up. There wasn’t even a noticeable mark on the body where Molly had drawn the blood from. After sliding the tray back into the freezer and closing the door, Molly checked the time. It was the end of her shift and, thankfully, no other bodies had come in needing her attention. For once, she was getting out of work on time. Now if only there was something to _do_ once she was done. Her personal life was a little barren and there were only so many times you could clean a flat before there was no point anymore.

“Oh, Molly, glad I caught you,” Greg Lestrade’s voice came from the doors at the other end of the morgue. He sounded cheerful and Molly turned to see him wearing a smile and carrying something behind his back. It was curious how cheerful the DI was; normally, he wore a frown whenever he walked into the morgue. Then again, studying someone’s death wasn’t something to be cheerful about. “I thought you might have left already.”

“Just about to,” Molly replied with a laugh. She raised an eyebrow at Greg, tilting her head to indicate the arm he had behind his back. “What did you need? And what are you holding?”

“I don’t exactly _need_ anything,” Greg replied, walking forward into the morgue and stopping in front of Molly. He brought his hand out from behind his back, flourishing a white rose before extending it towards her. “This is what I was holding. I was hoping to ask you out for dinner tonight. Or another night if tonight isn’t good for you.”

Molly froze in the act of reaching for the flower, a small smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t get flowers often and had kept every single one, pressing it between the pages of a thick book to dry it out. Each flower had gone into a scrapbook with who had given it to her, when, and why written in her neat handwriting underneath the flower. This was unexpected and, as Molly’s wide eyes met Greg’s hopeful ones, she tried to decide whether she _wanted_ to go on a date with the DI. He was nice and kind and Molly would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it. But it was one of those thoughts that you believed wouldn’t happen, could laugh a little at the silliness of it all. Besides, at the time, Greg had been married and unavailable. Course, about half a year after his divorce from his wife, that was no longer the case.

Greg waited with bated breath, holding the flower and struggling to keep his hand from shaking. He didn’t want to think about how long it had been since he’d asked anyone on a date. Not since his wife and that was years in the past. There were times he’d noticed Molly when he was still married. Well, to be more precise, had noticed how sweet she was and that she had an understated beauty. Things were cracking apart between him and his wife slowly but Greg could see the inevitable end, much as he tried to ignore it. Seeing Molly, _really_ seeing her, didn’t crack things apart faster but it did give Greg a sense of hope. And now, here he was, hope fluttering in his chest as he prayed that he’d picked the right time for this.

“I uh... sure,” Molly stammered, taking the flower from Greg and lifting it to her nose as she closed her eyes. She loved the smell of roses and this one had a light fragrance. It wasn’t overpowering like some of the rose bushes she passed by on her way to work. Using the gesture to break their gazes was the best way Molly could think of at the moment to take a deep breath and collect herself. Her hands shook a little bit, though Molly was thankful she was able to hide it. She hadn’t been this nervous even with the disastrous attempt at asking Sherlock out for coffee again. What could that mean? “Tonight is uh... yeah... Tonight’s fine. About eight?”

“Sure yeah, eight’s great,” Greg chuckled, huffing out a relieved sigh. He chuckled for a few more seconds, unable to stop himself as Molly smiled at him. “I’ll pick you up at your place?”

“That’s fine, yeah,” Molly replied. She turned and walked into her office, pulling out one of the business cards she never used from the little holder on her desk. Writing quickly, Molly spelled out her address and walked back out to the morgue proper to hand the card to Greg. “My address. See you at eight?”

“See you then,” Greg nodded, pocketing the card and letting his fingertips caress it a moment as he pulled his hand back out of his pocket. “Glad you liked the flower.”

Molly blushed as he grinned at her then walked out, whistling tunelessly. She sniffed the flower again, a wide smile breaking out across her face. Five chimes from the small clock in her office brought her back to herself, reminding her that her shift was over. It was long enough for her to get home, shower and change, and then fret over the date to come. But nothing would get done if she stood here sniffing the flower. Grabbing a cup from her office, Molly filled it at the water fountain just outside the morgue and set her rose in the cup. Then, she put it on her desk next to her computer, a place she’d be able to see it anytime she looked up. Once it started to droop a little, she’d take it home and dry it. Humming to herself, Molly shrugged into her coat and hurried home. Eight o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

About five minutes to eight, Greg pulled up outside Molly’s flat. He parked on the street and took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. After his own shower, Greg had dressed in a simple, light blue button down shirt and gray trousers. It was similar to the outfits he wore when he was working but casual enough to not immediately paint him as a DI. He’d even put on a little of the new cologne he’d bought, purchased after a saleswoman had persuaded him into trying it. But time was ticking away and sitting here worrying wasn’t helping. As he got out of the car and walked up to Molly’s door, Greg couldn’t help plucking at his trousers or the cuffs of his shirt nervously. He rang the bell and hooked his thumbs into his pockets in an effort to keep his hands still.

“Oh, hello,” Molly said a touch breathlessly as she opened the door. She was wearing a pale purple dress with wide straps that left her arms bare. It came down to her knees and seemed to almost float. A silver chain glinted at her throat with a small, purple stone hanging from it. Greg inhaled deeply as her perfume wafted out to him, something clean and slightly fruity. It smelled delicious and she looked beautiful. “Right on time.”

“You look amazing,” Greg told her, smiling gently. He offered his arm to Molly, pleased when she took it and wrapped her fingers around his elbow.. “Are you ready to go?”

Molly nodded and turned just enough to lock and close her door. She and Greg headed down the sidewalk to his car and he held the door for her as Molly slid into the passenger seat. Greg hurried around to the driver’s side, turning the car on and reaching to turn the radio off before Molly stopped him. He’d been listening to classical on the drive here as it tended to calm him.

“I like it,” Molly said, hand still on Greg’s wrist. “You don’t have to change it.”

“All right,” Greg nodded, smiling. He pulled the car out into traffic and headed towards the restaurant he’d decided on earlier. “I hope you like Italian food. There’s a great restaurant I found a few months back. Best pasta I’d ever had.”

“Sounds good,” Molly nodded and hummed along with the piece that started on the radio. They made small talk during the ride, laughing and telling stories about their day. The restaurant wasn’t very busy as Greg pulled into the parking lot. He walked around the car to help Molly out, again offering her his arm which she took. Once inside the restaurant, they were seated quickly in a dim nook, a candle throwing a warm golden glow over the table.

“This place is amazing,” Molly said after the waiter had taken their orders and left a bottle of red wine on the table for them. “I didn’t even know it was here. How did you find it?”

“Would you believe a stake out?” Greg asked, pouring the wine for Molly first and then himself. It was sweet and fruity and Greg sipped appreciably before continuing his story. “We were looking for a serial kidnapper. The guy would take kids on their way home from school. All kids of government officials, people who could pay handsome ransoms. He’d hold them for about a day or so then contact the parents demanding the ransom. Most parents paid but one finally contacted us. The drop point was here at this restaurant and my team waited in the kitchen while the parent sat in the dining room. The kidnapper strolled in as if he owned the place. We arrested him and rescued the kid.”

“That sounds a bit boring and a bit exciting all at the same time,” Molly commented, sipping at her own glass of wine. She didn’t drink very often but it was a very nice and pleasant to do so now. “Waiting must be difficult.”

“It can be,” Greg nodded. “But I’ve learned patience. You don’t last long on stake outs if you don’t have patience. Plus, I play games with myself. I’ve gotten very good at beating myself at tic-tac-toe.”

Molly laughed and conversation continued to flow between them. It was hardly interrupted when the waiter brought their meals back and each talked around bites. Most of it was conversations about different cases each had worked on, separately or together. For many of the cases they’d worked on together, neither had known it since they’d been so busy with their respective sides of the case. Sherlock and John came up a few times, though Molly skirted around the topic of Sherlock. For once, he wasn’t the one she wanted to think about. Talk slowly moved towards likes and dislikes, favorite books or movies, and what musicians were better than others.

They’d barely exhausted the conversation by the time the waiter brought their dessert, a melting-hot brownie covered in vanilla ice cream. There were two spoons as they’d elected to share the dessert and Molly wasted no time in scooping up a spoonful. It was just as delicious as it looked, chocolate and ice cream sliding down her throat accompanied by a small moan of delight. When Greg shifted in his chair, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth, Molly blushed and ducked her head. She hadn’t meant to make that sound at all nor to have it sound as... debauched as it had.

“I take it you like brownies,” Greg said after clearing his throat, voice a touch huskier than normal. “They’re a guilty pleasure of mine. I always tend to eat more than I should.”

“I do, though its really all chocolate, not just brownies,” Molly replied quietly, still staring down at the dessert. She could feel the blush burning her cheeks and moving down her neck. “I’m... more than a little embarrassed now.”

“Don’t. You should hear me when I’m eating peach pie,” Greg laughed, spooning up some of the gooey mess and eating it. It was sinfully delicious and he hummed quietly for a moment. Then he wondered whether Molly would make that moan again with another bite. “This is absolutely delicious.”

Molly looked up and smiled softly, her blush fading away a little bit. They ate the brownie slowly, savoring each bite. And Molly had to giggle the couple times Greg fed her a bit from his own spoon. It was sweet and bubbly and Molly felt herself moving further and further away from Sherlock. Maybe it was time to stop feeling sorry for herself that he didn’t seem to care about her. Maybe it was finally time to find someone who would. After they were finished, Greg took the check and paid after a small argument from Molly. She was perfectly willing to pay her half.

“My treat,” Greg finally told her, resolutely holding the check out of her reach. The waiter stood to the side, struggling to hide a smile as he watched them. They weren’t the first couple he’d seen in the restaurant nor the first on their first date. But they were really cute and it was a pleasure to watch them. He took Greg’s credit card and paid the check with it quickly, walking back a few minutes later.

“All right,” Molly nodded and sat back in her chair. “It’s not all that late yet. Do you want to go for a walk?”

Greg nodded at her and they stood up, Greg once again offering his arm to her. Molly couldn’t help the quiet giggle; it was so chivalrous. They bypassed the parking lot outside and headed towards the sound of music and the sight of bright lights down the block. There, a few university-age students had set up an impromptu concert. Passers-by stopped and listened for a few minutes before walking on while other students sat on blankets around the group. Greg and Molly stood near the back of the group and listened. The kids were quite good, though it was a bit of a strange assortment of instruments. One had a violin, another a guitar, another a set of bongo drums, and the last a flute. They were coming to the end of a song Greg recognized as Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons. When they finished, the other students tossed out suggestions of what to play.

“Greensleeves,” Molly called out, barely able to be heard over the crowd. The girl playing the flute grinned and whispered the name to the others. They nodded and started playing, Molly nodding along with the beat. She lost track of the time they stood there, listening to music as the players finished Greensleeves and moved into Stairway to Heaven followed by Moonlight Sonata. The songs started to blur together as Molly leaned her head on Greg’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they swayed to the music, content in the silence and in each other.

About an hour and a half later, the players called an end to the concert, much to the pretend anger of the others. Everyone packed up good-naturedly, the group making plans to come out again next weekend. It was a great end to a wonderful night and Molly was sorry to see the time slipping away. She and Greg walked back to Greg’s car, hand in hand.

“I had a good time tonight,” Molly said, standing next to her open door. She leaned up on tiptoes and brushed her lips lightly across Greg’s. “How about we catch a movie on Tuesday? It’s my day off.”

“I would love to,” Greg replied, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back. He hummed again as he hurried around the car and slid into the driver’s seat. Everything had gone perfectly, much better than he’d feared. It was time for him to move on and Molly was everything he wanted now. He could only hope she decided the same about him.


End file.
